


One More For the Road

by delen2000



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship/Love, pain/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delen2000/pseuds/delen2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and Margaret get closer.  Song I believe is Frank Sinatra and fits this couple well.  After C.A.V.E.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this originally in fanfiction dot net, but I might update and tweak it as it's needed.

Hawkeye lay in bed staring at the ceiling of the tent in the dark. In the brief flashes of lightning he could make out his other bunkmates, both sound asleep. He counted the time in between the thunder and the lightning. Three counts…three miles away. He sighed and stretched and knew while he was wide-awake at 2:30 in the morning. Margaret hadn't shown up yet.

Shortly after their return into camp from the 8063rd, she started to have nightmares every night. She'd show up and he'd let her cuddle up on the cot with him. The guys had no problem with her being there and she didn't have a problem with it, so it kept on, even past the nightmares. She came over when there was shelling and when she was lonely also. Hawkeye was to the point where he couldn't sleep without her curled soft and warm against him.

A shadow moved in front of the tent and Hawkeye was instantly alert. His heart started to pound and he looked expectantly at the door of the tent. A covered blob opened and shut the door as quietly as possible. The person dropped the wet things in a heap by the door to dry, revealing Margaret's slim frame. She moved quietly and gracefully over to the side of his cot and bent over him.

The lightning flashed and she jumped slightly, and shivered at the rumbling sound of the thunder that got closer. He reached and pulled her down on top of him and let her get settled. She hugged him to herself and listened to his heartbeat. The steady rhythm quieted and comforted her somewhat. Just then, a crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning shook the tent. There was the sickening sound of a tree splitting and falling, right outside the tent. Margaret almost jumped out of bed, taking Hawkeye with her. He put out one arm to steady the bed and another on her back to soothe her. She shuddered violently in her fright and wouldn't be calmed.

"Hawkeye." She begged quietly. He knew she wanted him to make it all go away. So he thought for a moment and then began to sing, quietly as one would to a child.

"It's quarter to three, there's no one in the place  
Except you and me"

He paused and let his other hand come down to cradle her face.

"So set 'em' up Joe, I got a little story  
I think you should know  
We're drinking my friend, to the end  
Of a brief episode"

Margaret quit shaking and took a deep, steadying breath. The storm started to pass, leaving a gentle rain in its wake.

"Make it one for my baby  
And one more for the road  
I know the routine, put another nickel  
In the machine  
I feel kind of bad, can't you make the music  
Easy and sad  
I could tell you a lot, but it's not  
In a gentleman's code"

Hawkeye had to grin a little at the line. He looked down at Margaret who was watching him with a small smile.

"Make it one for my baby  
And one more for the road  
You'd never know it, but buddy I'm a kind of poet  
And I've got a lot of things I'd like to say  
And if I'm gloomy, please listen to me  
Till it's talked away  
Well that's how it goes, and Joe I know your gettin'  
Anxious to close  
Thanks for the cheer  
I hope you didn't mind  
My bending your ear"

Hawkeye looked straight into Margaret's eyes for the final bit. Even though the song was a toast to lost love and losing one's love, Hawk felt the meaning behind the words and what this man felt for the woman he lost, and looking into her eyes tried to convey a little of that to her.

"But this torch that I found, It's gotta be drowned  
Or it's gonna explode  
Make it one for my baby  
And one more for the road"

Margaret rose up and kissed him on the lips. It was brief, but Hawkeye knew that it was more than thank you. It was a promise of things to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawkeye tossed and turned on his cot and sighed deeply. A few minutes would go by and then another round would start anew. His tent-mate threw his boot at him and rolled over to face him in exasperation.

"Hawk? Are you planning on sleeping anytime soon? That mattress isn't going to get any more comfortable, you know." BJ asked.

"Why, because it's made of poorly constructed paper?" BJ glowered at him. "I know. I don't know why, but I just can't seem to fall asleep at all. I'm exhausted. And I love to sleep. Love to snooze. Love catnaps, and sleepovers. " He grinned and curled on his side so he could look at his friend. "And I love pajama parties, and…" He would have gone on if BJ hadn't held up his hand to stop his little sidetrack. He could have kept this up all night.

"Ya know, it's only going to be one more night that she and Charles are on overnight post-op and then she can be all yours again." BJ said to comfort him.

"Why would "she" mean that I would sleep better? And better yet who is "she"?" Hawkeye asked innocently. There was enough bitterness in his voice to let BJ know that Hawkeye knew exactly who she was.

"You can fool yourself and Margaret, but pal, you can't fool me." BJ said and then pulled the blanket up higher. Fall was setting in and it got more than a little chilly at three o'clock in the morning. He shivered slightly, and burrowed deeper into the pitiful excuse for a mattress.

"So this is about Margaret, huh? You guys don't like her around? Her being in here all the time make you and Charles uncomfortable?" The bitterness increased enough that BJ got the hint. Hawkeye was covering up, protecting himself from whatever BJ might tell him. So BJ did what any self-respecting friend would do- he twisted the knife a little.

"Well, of course it's about Margaret. She's in here at all hours; she wakes us up coming in here and leaving at early hours. You guys talk and laugh and who knows what at four o'clock in the morning. Charles and I don't get a lot privacy in this place and she's taking the last bit and...you know what, my friend?" BJ asked his stunned friend.

"What?" Hawkeye asked quietly, obviously scared of the answer.

"If she makes you happy, we don't mind a bit. And if she makes you this miserable being apart from you, she must be making you happy." BJ smiled and watched Hawkeye let out a breath he wasn't aware he was even holding.

"I don't know when it happened, Beej. We hated each other, then we respected each other, and then we were friends. Now I love her, and the thought of being without her for a while makes me crazy. Is this how you feel with Peg? And if it is, how did you stand it one day much less a year?" Hawkeye asked miserably.

BJ smiled and looked at his friend. "Yes, that's how it feels. It gets a little easier and then sometimes something reminds me of her. A nurse wears her perfume, or has the same color hair or says something that sounds the way she says things and it all comes crashing down on me. If you really can't sleep and you need to see her, go see her." BJ suggested logically.

"Ha!" Hawkeye snorted. "She'd laugh at me! She doesn't love me. She'd think this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Hawkeye Pierce groveling at her feet." Hawkeye huffed and turned over onto his back, fighting with the blankets for a minute. He tried to get the blankets to cover him a certain way; he just couldn't get warm enough. A certain nurse wasn't keeping him warm. He finally settled.

"How do you know she doesn't miss you?" BJ asked carefully. Seeing the sorrow on his friend's face he pressed on gently. "How do you know she doesn't love you?"

"I just know, ok?" It was said softly; completely uncharacteristic of the person it came from.

"You asked or she told you?" BJ asked.

"Just trust me on this, she doesn't love me. She doesn't fawn over me, or drool over me, or put me on a pedestal like she did Frank, or Donald, or any of the Generals that come through here. She just sees me as a good friend or a brother or something. Someone who doesn't judge her and who will listen to her." Hawkeye said knowingly.

"Ah." BJ said slowly. "You sound a little jealous. You never once acted like you wanted her falling all over you, or wanted any woman to."

"I am a little jealous of them. At least they had no doubt as to how she felt." Hawkeye admitted tiredly.

"Well, I have to admit that I never saw how she was in love with any of those guys. She wasn't Margaret when she was with any of them. She changed herself to fit whatever they thought a woman should be. And she didn't really love any of them either. She told me once she was just in love with the idea of being in love. Now with you, she can be herself. You already know what she's like and you like her anyway, so she can just be herself. She's happy and she's relaxed, are you sure she would laugh at you?" BJ asked.

Hawkeye sat up slowly and looked down at his boots on the floor. He slowly picked them up and put them on and then stood up. He was already dressed and wearing a coat, a necessity with the skimpy coverings. He made his way to the door and then out side and found himself in pre-op. He went over to the door and looked through the window. He watched her for the better parts of an hour attend to the wounded. He watched her administer medicine. He watched her comfort the soldiers that had bad dreams and soothe the ones that were woken up by their buddy's screams. He watched as she did it all, and Charles sat at the desk doing paperwork. Then he turned and walked away and left the tent. He sat on an abandoned oil drum that he had set on its side. He gently rocked it back and forth careful not to tip himself over in his drowsy state. A half an hour went by and she came out. She saw him in the moonlight and ventured over. She sat next to him and he stopped rocking so he wouldn't cause her to lose her balance.

"How come you're up?" She asked softly, to avoid disturbing the patients and the tents nearby.

"Couldn't sleep." He smiled at her, tiredly.

"Still, you should try to. You look tired. If casualties come in, you'll have wished you'd gotten some." She said practically. She looked at him concerned. "What's got you up thinking?"

"How'd you know I was thinking about something?" He wondered.

"I just knew." She smiled, and then nudged him with her shoulder. "Why don't you come inside and keep me company for a while. Charles is doing his best to ignore me and the patients." She looked at him expectantly.

He sighed and looked down at the ground letting his bangs fall into his face. She placed a hand on his arm and he felt a rush of electricity go through his arm up into his shoulder and settle into his heart. "Please." She pleaded.

"Alright, for just a little while." He agreed, though his heart rate sped up as she took his hand and eagerly pulled him to his feet and inside. She was in such a good mood and her good mood washed over to him. He hated to ask her and ruin the moment so he left it for another day.

There would be other days, other moments to make a fool of himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye walked into the Mess Tent and looked around at the empty tent searching for her. It was required lecture day and the doctor knew that although Margaret had been up all night in the village delivering a baby, that she would be here instead of getting her well deserved rest in her tent. He finally spotted her, sitting at a table with her head buried in her arms trying to get a quick catnap.

His heart melted at the sight. He knew if the situations were reversed, he wouldn't give a rat's ass about "Jungle Fungus – The Rotten Cure" or the hours that Charles had put into the speech. He would care only about getting a few hours in before the choppers could be heard pounding over the hillside.

He very quietly approached her and softly touched her shoulder to let her know he was there. Slowly, she raised her head and blinked at him, her sleepiness evident. Whatever sleep she'd managed to get was poor at best. He sat next to her near a tent pole and straddled the bench, gesturing for her to lean against him. She flashed him a smile but shook her head slightly trying to clear the cobwebs out. He sighed a little.

"You're exhausted. C'me're." He again gestured for her to lean against him. She sighed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She turned away from him and straddled the bench as well, scooting back so that his stomach and her back touched. He placed his arms protectively around her and leaned back against the tent pole. She put the leg up on the bench that was on the outside of the table and he wrapped his leg around hers to keep her from falling off the bench. The other two legs remained on the floor for balance.

He lifted her watch with arm attached up towards his face so that he could see the time. The lecture was to start at 3pm. With a smirk, he lowered her arm so that she could read it as well, "It's a quarter to three, there is no one in the place except for you and me." He sang quietly. He lowered the arm back down to her chest, but did not let go of it, holding her to him. She was wearing her coat and her heaviest clothing but still she snuggled into him. He argued in his head that it was for warmth and better balance, but hoped it was for more.

Minutes passed, he slowly stroked the arm he was caressing and then her breathing evened out and her body went slack and he knew she was asleep. It didn't take him long to follow her. He had found that he could not sleep throughout the whole night if she wasn't there to warm him in the early hours of the morning. His body recognized that she was not there and would wake him up, longing for her. He had thought last night he would receive a visit, but then he had found out that she had left camp around three that afternoon, and that there was no telling when she would be back. With a heavy heart, he'd gone to bed, realizing how long a night it would be, and was.

It was to this sight that the doctors and nurses of the 4077th walked in on, as they laughed and joked their way inside of the tent. Every one of them stopped abruptly and motioned for silence as they took seats far away from the sleeping pair. Charles placed his podium in the usual spot, which was also far away from them, and the lecture went on as the people in the tent glanced back and forth and silently speculated on the sleeping couple.

When the lecture was over, the people packed up their stuff and quietly exited the tent and went off to do whatever they did, all except for four, who spied on the couple outside of the tent.

"I think they are cute, Sirs." Radar said to the general group softly.

"Do you think they have any idea?" Asked Potter of BJ.

BJ sadly shook his head and softly answered, with a small smile on his face, "I think they will be the last to know."

Charles just smirked and shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, something ought to be done about this!" Potter declared in a definitive but quiet voice. With that, he led the group over to his office, and left the solitary couple to wake up alone.

Off in the distance, many miles a way, choppers were being loaded and took flight in search of the 4077th.


	4. Chapter 4

Hawkeye was sound asleep when Margaret finally made her way into the Swamp. She had debated all day whether or not to show up and came to the conclusion at three o'clock in the morning, that unless she went to Hawkeye, she was never going to get any sleep at all.

She gathered her courage and walked silently into the tent, and looked around. B.J. was asleep on his stomach, many layers of clothing and blankets were on him. Charles was facing away with earmuffs on and his warm parka covering his tall frame. The only man she was interested in was lying on his back, snuggled to one side of the narrow cot, to allow her as much room as possible. She quickly toed out of her boots that she had unlaced in her own tent and lifted up the covers, crawling in as carefully as possible. She unzipped the front of her jacket to allow body heat to escape, and pulled the covers over them both. She lay on her stomach, half on top of him and half off. Her head rested under his neck and her arm over his stomach. Her legs touched his left leg all the way down. In the quiet of the tent she was able to finally drift off.

Something woke her up around four thirty. She groggily tried to open her eyes and see what the problem was, but her body wouldn't let her. A couple more blinks and they finally stayed open. She looked around and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She took a closer look at Hawkeye and gasped a little, putting her hand out she pulled off the gloves she wore and felt his face. Hissing in disbelief, she leaned over toward B. J.'s cot and said softly, "Hunnicut." Apparently, this was not enough to wake him, and she leaned further over hissing loudly, "B.J.!" Again, the doctor slept on and Margaret reached for her shoe beside the cot and threw it at him, hitting him on the shoulder. B.J. jumped out of sleep and sat up trying to determine what happened. "Oh, good! You're awake!" Margaret said quietly in a dry way, and then gestured to the man sleeping under her. "Beej, come here, he's sick!" B.J. forgot about the boot and leapt to his feet, coming to his friend's cot side. "He's pale and flushed with fever, and clammy and I can't wake him up."

Margaret climbed out of the cot to allow B.J. to examine his friend. As B.J. completed his cursory exam, Margaret knew that the news wasn't good.

MASHMASHMASHMASHMSHMASHMASH

Margaret sat by his bedside, as she had for the last few days. It was crowded in post-op, and she didn't like to have so many people witness her foolishness of being unable to leave his side. It was double pneumonia, and he was lucky that it was bacterial. Above his head were the customary bags, filled with IV fluids and, of course, a treatment of antibiotics. Hawkeye had no shortage of visitors, the empty chairs pulled over to his bedside, waiting to be filled, serving as a testament to this fact. She was currently in the process of moisturizing his arms with a cream they used in the post-op. Hawkeye was being fed fluids through his IV but he hardly was drinking or eating anything, leading to his skin and lips drying out very quickly. She looking in despair at his severely chapped lips, knowing how painful they would be to heal. Very softly and slowly, she applied the cream liberally, in a soothing motion, to prevent him awakening. 'He needed his rest', she rationalized, 'and he doesn't need to see me hovering over him, yet again'. She continued her ministrations, painfully aware that someone else had joined them on her side. A glance out of the corner of her eye let her know that the visitor was Father Mulcahy, and she was happy that of everyone, he was the one to witness her madness. She looked around at Nurses Kelley and Able, and B.J. the Doctor in Charge. Luckily, she was surrounded by friends at the moment.

Charles spent his free hours being snide to her while they were in post-op together. If she was on duty, he had to make a remark every time she checked on Hawkeye. She had been careful that no matter who was the Doctor in Charge that she spent no more time at his bedside than she did any other patient, until she was off duty, that is. Then her free time was her own. She had also noticed that some of the nurses, Baker and others, had been very cool to her lately. She didn't know exactly why. Maybe they were jealous, or they thought she was monopolizing his time. He was very popular, and their night time visits had been on a need to know basis. She didn't live with the other nurses, so they had no reason to know where she slept.

Mulcahy bent over into her space. "Am I disturbing you Major?" He asked in his usual kind manor.

She snapped to attention and smiled at him, while continuing to administer the cream. "No, of course not Father. He would probably love a visit from you."

"He's been sleeping a lot lately, hasn't he?" He observed as he sat down next to her.

She sighed and pulled his sleeve down, and then placed his arm back over his chest. She got up and moved across from Mulcahy, sitting down near the bottom of the bed. She then peeled back the covers on the bottom exposing his legs and rolled up his pants leg to begin to moisturize his leg.

"It's the fever." She explained reluctantly. "When his fever is high, like it is now, he sleeps very deeply. I hope he doesn't go much higher, they'll have to put him in an ice bath, to bring it down quickly." She said sadly.

"Oh, dear." Mulcahy bowed his head, crossing himself. "Dear Father in Heaven, please be with your son, Hawkeye, in his time of sickness. Watch over him Lord, and keep him in your Love and Healing Spirit. Amen."

Margaret winced a little at the prayer. Although, she knew that Hawkeye was not close to death, it rattled her to see the Father praying over his bedside. But she did appreciate it even still.

She must have accidentally touched a sensitive area of his leg, because he jerked suddenly in her hands and his eyes blinked open a second later. He looked around in confusion, at first looking at Mulcahy, and then at Margaret who still held his leg in her hands.

Everything in her wanted to spring up and hold him in her arms, comforting him, loving him, but there were way to many people, and she held herself still,

"Pierce, your awake!" She said brightly. "Can I get you anything?"

Hawkeye looked at her strangely, and so did Mulcahy, come to think about it. If she were to turn around she'd probably see B.J., Kelley, and Able all staring at her strangely. She straightened her spine and continued to rub the cream into his leg, waiting for his answer. Only after starting to apply the cream, did she realize how intimate a moment it was to continue this while he was awake. She simply continued to do it, while beating herself up in her head, about what a stupid person she was.

"No, thanks. I'm just tired." He rolled his head over to get a better look at Mulcahy, and closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure, when Margaret hit a particularly sore spot, soothing the ache for him. He opened them back up, and smiled. "What is going on, Father?"

"Oh, nothing much. Lots of wounded yesterday, as you've probably noticed. Most will be shipped out by tomorrow. The 8063rd and Tokyo is taking them." He paused and smiled at Hawkeye, pointing in his direction. "Your illness is the talk of the camp recently."

"What, little ole me?" Hawkeye wheezed weakly.

Margaret frowned and set his leg down. She got up and came to his side and looked at him carefully, placing her hand on his head to turn him toward her. She half stooped over him. "Are you having trouble breathing?" It looked to her, as though he were fighting for every breath. He nodded. She hurried off to locate a stethoscope. He watched he leave with a slightly alarmed expression from her hurried steps towards the medical equipment.

"She cares deeply for you, Hawkeye." Mulcahy softly said to calm him. Hawkeye turned back to him, panic in his eyes and sadness.

"You'll never get her to admit that." He managed to struggle out. He let his head loll on the pillow, he didn't have the energy to hold it into place anymore.

"Hawkeye, are you alright?" Mulcahy started to notice how hard it was for him to breathe.

Margaret came storming across the post-op with her stethoscope already in her ears and was warming the metal as she came to his bedside. Without preamble she stuck it beneath his shirt, coming from the neck area, unbuttoning a button or two as she went. She had him inhale and exhale, and cough, repeatedly. Then she buttoned him back up and motioned for him to lean forward so she could hear his back. He tried, struggled, and failed. She gently pulled his shoulders forward. Mulcahy came forward to hold him in a leaning position while she went up under the hem of his pajama shirt to reach his back with the stethoscope. She felt him tense, and in sympathy, placed her free hand on his shoulder, directing him to breathe in, breathe out and to cough.

Gently, they eased him into a lying down position. He could see B.J. now and Kelley; they were hovering over her shoulder, trying to see what had them all so concerned. Margaret swiftly pulled back once he was settled and stepped back into the isle, taking B.J. and Kelley with her. Quietly they conferred on her findings. Hawkeye wished he didn't know what they were talking about, but he did. He was a doctor after all.

B.J. came over first, and sat down beside him while Margaret and Kelley went to get the medical supplies necessary for the procedure Beej was going to do.

"I'm going to have to drain both lungs, you're drowning." Beej said without preamble. Hawkeye nodded, he had guessed as much. Even that little motion seemed to drain him. Who knew that a lack of oxygen was that important? "I'm going to give you a sedative, and a numbing agent to make you more comfortable.: He said as he grabbed the loaded syringes from Margaret, who then crossed over from B.J.'s side to Mulcahy's, taking over her abandoned chair.

She grabbed his limp hand and squeezed to let him know she was there. Kelley came up with the tray of instruments, and B.J. injected him and waited for the drugs to take effect.

"This will be slightly uncomfortable." Beej said as he began the procedure. Hawkeye turned to look at Margaret, and squeezed her hand back. She smiled as he grimaced, trying to offer comfort. It would be a long afternoon for Hawkeye and Margaret.

MASHMASHMASHMASHMASHMASHMASHMASH

He had somehow managed to fall asleep after the procedure was completed. He was sure it was from pure exhaustion. When he awoke, he was surprised to find that Mulcahy was still there, and that Margaret was not. He looked around to see if she was on duty, but only saw Charles and Baker. On further inspection, he noticed that there was only one nurse on duty and that half of post-op had been cleared out.

"She's not here, if that's what you're wondering."

Hawkeye tried to not look lost but somewhat failed the attempt. "I'm sorry, Father, it's not that I don't want to see you, it's just that I think that this is the first time in four days I've woken up and she's not been here." He thought about that for a moment, trailing off his last words. "Hey, has she eaten or slept in the past four days?" He asked concerned.

Mulcahy shook his head slowly. "In fact, that is what she's doing right now. Sleeping." Mulcahy looked pensive for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind about something. "Hawkeye, are the two of you in love?"

Hawkeye thought he'd had trouble breathing before, but now with that little question, all the air was sucked out of his lungs.

"She cares about you deeply. We all can see it. You both comfort each other, laugh together, support each other. It is possible that you two are just very close friends, but for one thing. She has been here non stop for a non-life threatening illness for days on end. None of your other close friends have shown even a hint of that kind of devotion."

"I'm in love with her." Hawkeye said after a beat, his words tumbling out on top of each other. "But I have no idea how she feels about me." With the admission his face scrunched up in misery, prompting Mulcahy to come in close and offer comfort. Hawkeye rolled onto his side to face the Father and laid one arm up near his face, curling into a ball. His chest still hurt from that afternoon.

"Hawkeye, she loves you, I am sure of it."

"But I am not sure,"

Outside of post-op, Margaret stood looking into the room where Hawkeye lay talking to Mulcahy. Although, she could not hear a word, her heart went out to him. She slowly turned to go to her own tent, to try to sleep again before the sound of choppers pounded over the hillside once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawkeye was sound asleep in post-op when he jerked awake. Uncomprehending, he looked around for the source of his distress and found only darkness to welcome him. He blinked several times and fought back panic. Since he'd been brought in, there was always somebody there to monitor him, and always a light. He squinted and looked at all the beds around him, empty the last couple of days since the last couple of boys had been evaced out, either to home or Tokyo. His eyes widened as a familiar blonde head came under his scrutiny and slowly a smile stole across his face.

She had been coming by, mostly when he was asleep, the last week or so since that horrible day they had to drain his lungs. She was always rubbing that cream on his arms and legs and he was extremely grateful. Not only did his limbs feel wonderful, but she had soothed a lot of aches and pains his fever had brought to light. And, he felt extremely cared for. Even though he rarely saw her while he was awake, for more than a few minutes here and there, he would wake up to the familiar smell of the cream and a relaxed feeling that always went down to his toes. He wasn't sure why she had been avoiding him. He wasn't entirely sure that she was. It just seemed awfully convenient that he was asleep every time she made sure to come by.

"Pierce…why are you up?" She said softly, sleepily.

He realized he'd been staring at her sightlessly for awhile, so long that he hadn't noticed her turning over and noticing him.

A little more awake now, she propped up on her elbows and gave him a concerned look. "Do you need something? Pain meds? Water? The Latrine?" she listed quietly, the concern lacing her tone.

He shook his head slowly, and then relaxed into his pillow, settling his eyes upon her. "No, thank you. Something woke me…I don't know what...and now I guess I'm going to try to sleep again, if I can." He shrugged. "Where is everybody? Why are you sleeping in here?"

"Well," she balanced on one elbow and swept the hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, so she could see him more easily, "All of post-op has been empty for days, except for you, and it seemed silly to make a doctor and nurses have round-the-clock care for you when you weren't critical anymore, but they didn't want to move you as yet. You are still better off in here where procedures and equipment is at the ready in case of a relapse. I couldn't let you be in here all alone though, if something were to happen, I'd feel horrible that you weren't able to get any help, so I volunteered to sleep in post-op, until you could be moved or until post-op was busy again." She had brought her hands together, loosely clasped, as though steeling herself against something.

"You…stayed in here…for me?" He asked softly.

"Yes." She nodded her head.

He turned onto his back slowly, thinking as fast as his sleep addled and sickly mind would allow. He grabbed the corner of his pillow, closest to her and pulled it back, so he could see her when he turned his head back to face her. "Margret, do you…" and then he chickened out. His mouth went dry as it caught up with his brain, and he realized suddenly that once he asked, there was no turning back, no way to unknow, and he didn't know if he can handle that.

"Do…I…?" She nodded at him trying to figure out where he had been going.

"I don't remember." He said unconvincingly. The hurt that flashed across her face was something that he thought at first he hadn't seen correctly, at first. It was a trick of the light. They were both tired. It was annoyance or pain from resting up on her elbows like that. He knew he was lying to himself, but he tried.

"Well," she said, trying to recover quickly, and swallowed. "You'd better get some rest. You're not getting out of here if you don't have the proper rest, and I am just keeping you up." She looked meaningfully at him, professional mask firmly in place, and unceremoniously, twisted herself away from him and flopped down, showing him her back.

He sighed, and cursed his yellow streak. "I don't know if I can."

"Well, try." She said forceful and clipped, almost letting the frustration and shriek out he knew was barely below the surface.

"What time is it anyway?" He asked suddenly, really wanting to know. He didn't have a watch on and the clock was where it was convenient for staff, not patients.

She sighed, and her shoulders tensed up, and after an internal debate with herself, she brought her watch up to her face and squinted to read in the shaft of moonlight near her face. She let the watch arm down and crossed it over her middle, snuggling down into to uncomfortable mattress.

With a bit of humor in her voice, she started very softly to sing, "It's a quarter to three, there's no one in the place, except you and me." She sighed and lay onto her back.

"I can't sleep without you anymore." He admitted quickly, before he could stop himself. Her eyes got wide and she turned her head up to look at him in disbelief. "Before I got sick and you'd find me stalking you at odd hours…it was because I would wake up, because you weren't there, because you weren't keeping me warm. I missed your smell, your breathing, the weight of you against me. I missed you Margret. Now that I no longer have a fever keeping me asleep, it appears that I am doomed to continue to wake up 'a quarter to three' for the rest of my life." It was all tumbling out, faster than he could keep up, and it felt wonderful and free, and terrifying all at once. She was sitting up and leaning closer and closer to him as he rambled on. " I love you, you know, and I can't not have you near because of that." He admitted, looking into her eyes, that were looking quite shiny.

There was a pause, where he struggled for more words that wouldn't come, he had said everything he could think of and exhausted his energy doing so, and she simply stared at him. Suddenly she let out a curious sound that sounded like a strangled moan and launched herself from the side of her bed into his arms, draping herself across his body. She held him with everything she had and buried her face into his neck, aligned her body with his till their legs tangled and her sock clad toes touched his feet. He couldn't hardly breathe, but didn't want to ruin the moment and have her jump off of him, so he gently rolled them until they were on their sides, looking at each other.

"I love you, too." She moaned and buried her face back into his neck, and he smiled and held on to her for dear life.


End file.
